


Four Minor Disasters and a Major Chord

by Semianonymity



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 13:05:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14426028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Semianonymity/pseuds/Semianonymity
Summary: Four first (or first-ish) kisses between Casey, April and Donnie that don't go particularly well.For Capritello week 2018! Prompt was for Sunday (I'm late), First Kiss/First Date.





	Four Minor Disasters and a Major Chord

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Werepirechick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Werepirechick/gifts).



_Casey and April_

It’s not really a _hard_ fight, but it’s enough to make them stretch a bit, leaves them all loose and adrenaline-filled and victorious. Leo’s home with a cold, Mikey and Raph off together, and that left Casey and April and Donnie on patrol together, the three of them urging each other on with unspoken challenges. Or spoken.

It’s a cool night, not quite cold, April and Casey’s breath fogging slightly, chilly enough that Donnie can feel it no matter how much he’s exerted himself, and April’s hand on his shoulder is like a brand. He doesn’t shiver--not warm-blooded enough to shiver, because his body doesn’t burn energy like that, doesn’t expend energy to maintain a constant internal temperature--and he doesn’t have any soft, downy hair on the nape of his neck to prickle, but it still feels like a live current running through him, in the best possible way, when April’s hand settles on his arm or shoulder or, God, his knee.

He tries to ignore it. But they left the unconscious-probably-not-brain-damaged-but-maybe gang members several streets behind them, and there’s nothing but Casey’s fierce gaze, mostly hidden but obvious, by now, in his body language, and it’s not just that Donnie’s a ninja, knows how to read body language, it’s also just that he knows Casey that well, now. There’s nothing but April, victorious and vicious, her smile just as much a threat display, teeth bared.

Casey’s laughing as they come to a stop, breathless, maybe a little bloodthirsty--but Donnie likes that, more than he wants to admit. Loves the cold night air in his lungs, the ghost of April’s hand in his still fading from his scales, phantom heat, Casey on his other side pressed close as they share a momentary stop on a shadowed fire escape, alternating strips of cold and warm, where he’s protected and where his skin is only a layer of cloth apart from Donnie’s skin.

The closeness is new, and it’s. Just a side effect of humans being social creatures, just a feature of his growing _friendship_ with Casey, with April too, but it also feels so warm, something totally different from actual temperature. It makes him want to go giddy and thrilled, even though he _knows_ he’s imagining anything between the two of them.

His friendship with Casey is at least partly, Donnie knows, based on the way that it’s increasingly obvious that they’re not rivals in any meaningful way. Donnie never really had a chance--he _knew_ that--with April, but for a while, it had been nice to… pretend.

He hasn’t let himself think anything of the way that sometimes Casey seems like he’s flirting with Donnie instead, because he knows better. He _knows better_ , no matter how much he wants to indulge himself, wants to think that April (that Casey) get some amount of pleasure out of listening to him, being near him. Not looking at him, but…

Casey can be his friend, because it’s obvious that April’s never going to see Donnie as more than a dear friend, a sort of family. There’s not any real competition there, anymore. Partially because Donnie can’t help but notice the strength in Casey’s arms, the way his cocky grin goes unreservedly sweet sometimes when he thinks no one’s watching, his irrepressible honest _happiness_ to be here, beating people up in the dark city with Donnie and April.

Adding two zero-chance probabilities together doesn’t make it anything more or less than zero; Donnie never had a chance with April, or with Casey, or with both of them. Casey’s _not_ flirting with him, it’s just his social awkwardness and insufficient socialization. April’s not fond of him _like that_ , it’s just his stupid heart reading too much into her friendliness no matter how much he tries tell it not too.

April lands on the railing of the fire escape, perfectly poised, and Casey shifts away from Donnie to lean into her. He’s still pressed thigh-to-thigh against Donnie, but it’s--a reminder, and Donnie tries not to feel too cold. Nothing to do with temperature, his bulk meaning he loses his heat slowly, and it’s not yet cold enough that he needs to strap chemical heat packs against the parts of his body where the blood runs closest to the surface, to keep him from getting too sluggish too fast.

“I’m winning,” April says, laughing, and dodges Casey as he slaps at her, effortlessly, balance not even wavering on the thin railing.

“We’re not even competing,” Donnie says, knowing the other two can hear the laugh in his voice, only barely trying to hide his smile.

“Of course we are,” April says promptly. “And I’m winning.”

Casey pulls up his mask enough so that he can stick his tongue out at her.

“A stunning rebuttal,” Donnie drawls, and April laughs at that, laughs harder when Casey turns an exaggerated grimace in his direction.

“Careful, or your face’ll freeze like that,” April adds, darting out a hand in a quick pinch that almost--almost--catches the tip of Casey’s tongue. He pulls back hard enough to slam the back of his head into the edge of Donnie’s shell, and that. Donnie can’t help but start laughing at that.

And Casey joins in, the three of them giggling like maniacs.

Donnie knows his smile’s a little too wide, a little too joyful for this--they’re _friends_ , it’s not like that, even if sometimes it feels like it, the three of them in contact and in sync and their own little island of warmth in the dark canyons of the city--and it’s more than he ever expected to get, anyway.

Casey’s grin is just as wide and fierce, though, just as happy, not _deliriously_ happy but--grounded, content, the sort of joy that springs up from deep inside, like a spring, an overflowing well, and just keeps coming.

The surprise is that Donnie seems to be included--it’s not just April, always a beacon they’ve navigated by. But he’ll take it, no matter how surprising, no matter how much he wants it and knows he shouldn’t.

Casey squeezes, pulling them both into the most awkward proto-hug, and Donnie can’t even protest that. His fingers catch in the tails of Donnie’s bandana, he clonks his head against April’s, all three of them flushed and panting and _happy_. Like this--like this Casey is stunning, Donnie thinks, and it’s so true that his heart can’t even hurt at the thought.

Then Casey leans up, bracing against Donnie’s shell, to press an impetuous kiss into April’s lips, not-quite-chaste and slightly clumsy, probably clumsier than can be explained by the angle itself, and they stay there, half a moment, April’s eyes open and stunning, half-smiling into it, Casey fierce and devoted and _trusting_ , one hand pushing up against Donnie, one hand on April’s arm, a knee braced into the railing, April holding onto the railing with one hand, one hand on Casey’s shoulder, both of them almost completely shadowed except for a thin strip of light sneaking in from surrounding source of illumination. It’s _beautiful_ , Donnie thinks, a little distantly. Like a classical painting, form and tension and shadow and light.

And then they’re moving apart, April thrilled and just a little surprised, like she’d known it was coming but hadn’t expected it _then_ , and Casey absolutely glowing, and he’s turning to Donnie and--

Reality hits.

“I think I hear something,” Donnie says, the words falling from numb lips, a clumsy lie. But it lets him pull his eyes off of them, lets him leap up and away and out towards the empty sky, shadows he can disappear into, the promise of another fight. Away from the two of them, the ties pulling them tight together, the boundaries being drawn that he can’t cross.

He’s embarrassed, and ashamed, he thinks. That he thought he was included. That he thought he had a chance.

Zero plus zero. It’s always zero, in the end. Or anything multiplied by nothing: in the end it’s nothing. No chance, no odds, nothing but naught.

\------------

_April and Donnie_

Donnie is careful not to flinch when he turns to yell at whichever brother has invaded his workspace this time, and sees April instead.

_Not flinching_ takes enough effort that he can’t come up with anything to say, just stares blankly at her, dumb and hurting and with no reason or excuse for either.

Her shoulders are squared, back straight, a kunoichi going into battle and not bothering to hide it. Donnie wants to run, not because he doesn’t already _know_ but because he’s not sure he can hear it directly from her without it tearing a hole in his chest, ripping him open, exposing the deluded, presumptuous secret he hadn’t been able to keep secret--his crush hadn’t been _subtle_ , and April wasn’t dumb--but had, eventually, been able to suppress.

More or less.

He tries to meet April’s eyes, and can’t, sliding off and just to the side of her face.

What do you say to the girl you’re desperately in love with, when she inevitably ends up with the _human_ boy who loves her--not desperately, because he’s human, there was _hope_ there instead of desperation--the boy you also love, despite your best sense, and your best efforts, and every single attempt to remind yourself that you just weren’t desirable?

“So--I’m guessing congratulations are in order,” Donnie makes himself say, a little mechanical. Really, he’d known it was coming.

He had, really. Just--

Hope is a thing with feathers, and it had slammed full-speed into the transparent windowpane of reality, and broken its neck. They found the corpses up on the roof sometimes, pigeons or starlings or even a hawk.

“I’m not here to talk about Casey,” April said, evenly, and this time, Donnie didn’t manage to hide the flinch completely.

She didn’t sound like she was going to ignore the entire thing, which meant they were going to talk about something _else_. His mind filled in the most believable ideas, the worst ones: what she needed Donatello to do, now her relationship with Casey was finalized, to keep him from panting after herself and--maybe she didn’t know that, at least, but he _wasn’t subtle_ when it came to this, and she was brilliant, and trained in reading an opponent, and had actually socialized with more people than four isolated mutants.

“...What are you here to talk about?” Donnie tries. “I had a new idea for camofla--”

April takes a step forward, and Donnie takes an automatic step back. His shell collides with a bench, hard enough to jar the living bone awkwardly through the keratin scales covering it, and he breathes deeply, fighting off the fight-or-flight instinct. Flight, mostly; he’s a _turtle_ , why does he _have_ that instinct? He can’t even outrun his own feelings.

“Donnie,” April says, and Donnie opens his mouth to say something, _anything_ , normal, but there’s nothing coming and--

April takes his hand, and Donnie goes stiff and still instead of flinching again. 

At least she’s going to be nice about it, he thinks. He hadn’t _really_ expected otherwise--she’d never told him off for his increasingly obvious, increasingly desperate crush--but he’d been terrified of the potential anyway.

Slowly, eyes fixed on his, solemn and serious and _nervous_ of all things, is she dreading this conversation that much? She’s, what, afraid he’s going to argue that he’s the better choice, insist he loves her?

...He might have, would have, once, and the thought is a tight hot squirm of shame.

She pulls his hand up in hers and he moves with her, unresisting, until she uncurls his fingers--her own wrapped awkwardly around his, the wrong size and the wrong shape for it to be a natural fit--and presses a kiss to his palm, eyes fluttering closed.

Everything stops.

Donnie tries to remember to breath, but there’s the low hum of panic in his ears, and the desperate need to memorize every single second of this moment on the assumption that this is as close to a real kiss as he’ll ever get--

Hands, he thinks. Even if they have more sensitivity than any part of the body excluding the lips, it’s a _platonic_ gesture. But her lips are just slightly dry, and her breath is warm and moist against his skin, and he’s trembling, just slightly.

She opens her eyes, looks at him again, searchingly.

“I’m sorry,” he manages to blurt out, not even sure what he’s apologizing for. Everything, maybe. For being himself, and falling in love.

“No,” April says, stubborn. “Don’t be.” She bends her head to kiss his wrist, the pulse-point, then turns his hand over, kisses the back of his hand, lips catching just slightly on a rougher-than-normal scale sticking up from the surrounding skin.

“...why are you…?” Donnie tries again, trembling enough that April has to feel it, now, voice hoarse and almost broken. He’s a angry, just a bit, but distantly--that she’d do this to him.

“Because I want to,” April says, looking up at him--meeting his eyes, this time, he doesn’t look away--her gaze a little more wide-eyed than he’d expected, a little more vulnerable. “Because--I’ve wanted to for a long time.”

But. “--But Casey--”

“Ignore Casey!” April says, voice catching. “It’s not--not _about_ Casey right now, it’s just--us. About us. And I want to kiss you, so--”

She steps closer, kisses the relatively fragile skin of his inner arm, then one of the little dark-pigmented scale ‘freckles’ on his upper arm.

_I don’t want to ignore Casey_ , Donnie thinks, involuntarily. _Why_ does April want to kiss him? Is it--a condolence prize? An attempt to, to--not hurt him, when she makes the obvious choice? Is she trying to convince herself that, maybe, she could look past what he is and choose him?

_I don’t want to be chosen_ , Donnie thinks, almost hysterically, thinking back to Casey and April, kissing, a matched pair, _stunning_. He does, he does _so bad_ , but--April had kissed Casey back, been just as thrilled as him, more self-contained but lit up with the same glow--

She presses a careful kiss to the upper edge of his plastron, where the skin disappears under the scutes, and Donnie wants her so _badly_ , wants her to mean this _so bad_. She can’t. She _can’t_.

When she tugs him down, he follows, scared, _terrified_ , not understanding but equally sure he’ll follow this to the end, whatever it is, because he couldn’t do anything else.

“Can I?” April asks, and Donnie swallows, almost convulsively. Makes a little indistinct noise of confirmation.

April kisses him, then, on his lips, so much warmer than him, tilted up almost awkwardly except she’s a graceful, honed weapon, pure steel down at the bone. It’s _almost_ chaste, the slide of her lips against his--God, let her not be thinking about the contrast between their mouths, the way his _face_ looks--but he’s sharing his breath with her, soft and intimate, falling into it.

April pulls away, and Donnie tries to follow for a split-second, then jumps back desperately. His shell collides with the table--still there--harder this time, and it’s not nearly as bad as the way that he can’t get further _away_.

“You didn’t--”

“I wanted to?” April says, almost desperately. “I--it’s not--I wanted to kiss you, and I wanted--everything to fit back together again, and--”

“It’s fine,” Donnie says, not even trying for a smile. “...Thank you.” Probably not what you should say after a _kiss_ , but it’s not like he’ll ever get to know again.

“Just because I wanted to,” April repeats, reaching out to touch his hand, He brushes his fingers against hers, doesn’t take her hand. Her eyes are almost pleading, like she’s trying to say something but she doesn’t have the words, even know where to start.

“Yeah,” Donnie says, and she smiles, but--her eyes are a little less bright, as she steps away.

_Not like me,_ Donnie thinks. There are so many types of _want_.

He hopes that whatever reason she had for doing it, she feels better now.

\-------------

_Donnie and Casey_

Donnie stays absolutely still as Casey sits down next to him, not _next to_ but close. It’s almost--not quite--the hyperawareness of his surroundings that comes with a fight.

Casey sits down, and the first thought Donnie has is that it’s further away than he would have sat just days ago. His next thought is that it’s a normal distance for friends to sit, and the logical conclusion is that they’ve been closer than could be explained by friendship. For some time. He’s been so _bad_ at not letting his crush show. With April, it had been painfully obvious to everyone including him, that he was head-over-heels. He’d thought he’d been doing better with Casey, his second hopeless case, but. Donnie’s who he is, and what he is, and he would be almost painfully inexperienced except that it doesn’t _matter_ , if doesn’t matter because no one’s going to have sex with him anyway.

Casey is physical, in every sense of the word. The distance between them isn’t characteristic of Casey--Jones, Donnie thinks, trying to dig back to the mindset he’d had before--even if it was characteristic of Donnie himself; if Casey knew that Donnie had fallen for him, it would be a sensible way to remind him that there was nothing there. A sensible way to try and nip Donnie’s crush in the bud.

...Too late for that. It isn’t something delicate and new, and Donnie wishes it’s _just_ a crush.

He’s been expecting it, really. They dynamic he has with Casey--the dynamic he had--is a back-and-forth jostle, competitive and vaguely insulting and challenging and _good_ and. April’s affections aren’t a competition, never have been but he _knows_ now, and. He lost, if it was. The zero-odds chance; anything multiplied by zero is zero. At least adding Casey to his private, _stupid_ fantasy, the one he wouldn’t even acknowledge to himself, didn’t make the odds of it happening any more unlikely. Nothing plus nothing is still nothing.

But he’s been waiting for Casey to bring it up. His _victory_ , even if all the teeth have come out of their competition, friendly and playful and for this, Donnie can’t take it. He doesn’t think Casey will be vicious about it, or mean it unkindly, but--

The hard smack of reality is still too fresh, stinging painfully every time he catches sight of a mirror or thinks back to the moment on the fire escape, and.

Casey wouldn’t mean it to be mean, but Donnie’s waiting for him to laugh about the inevitability, April falling for the Jones charm, for him to bring up Donnie’s old (hah, _old_ ) crush, God, for Casey to acknowledge the crush Donnie has on _him_. He feels so fragile, like the thick clots of curdled milk, just barely cohesive and falling apart and full of his own poison.

Casey pokes at healing cuts and bruises, needles and pushes any sore spots in his relationships until it’s all out in the open.

Donnie just wants to be able to pretend, a little bit, in the deepest shadows, that he had a chance.

Casey doesn’t say a word, though, just waits. Long enough Donnie’s _angry_ about it, almost, at how he’s drawing this out, he can’t--does he really--

When he turns to snap, as taught as a bowstring and vibrating with the tension of it, he can’t finish, just pulls up short because--because Casey looks _nervous_ , the way he almost never does.

Donnie looks away again, because the pinched tension in Casey’s face is such a contrast with the easy, open joy he’d had on the fire escape--when he kissed _April_ \--and it hurts, a bit, to see him like this.

...and there’s the guilt again. Because they’re still friends, him and April and Casey, and if Casey’s feeling bad about the inevitable end of their love-triangle, it’s not Casey’s fault. It’s all on Donnie, that he thought he had a chance, that he fell in love twice over. ...Hopefully he still doesn’t know about the other crush; Casey can be oblivious, sometimes, and--probably never wanted to even think about the _possibility_ , and--he wouldn’t be happy about it.

“Sorry,” Casey blurts out, and it’s enough of a surprise that Donnie flinches; Casey--of course, _now_ he’s being observant--obviously catches it, and winces. The pen in Donnie’s hand creaks warningly, and he puts it down hurriedly. The evening’s going to be bad enough already, no reason to spend it scrubbing ink off his scales.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Donnie says tightly. Surely, he should be better than this at a believable denial; it’s even true. Casey had just--finished it, kissed April, had her kiss him back, tipped them over into the inevitable, like water circling a drain.

“No!” Casey blurts out, too loud, standing up in a rush, chair clattering away from him, hands clenched. He visibly forces himself to relax. “No, it’s--”

“Casey,” Donnie says, flatly. “You kissed her. It’s not really a _surprise_. It’s--she kissed back, you’ve made it obvious you’re interested--”

“But, it’s, no but--”

“ _I understand_ ,” Donnie says, because he really does. It’s not a _question_ , why anyone would like Casey, why anyone would like April. It’s not even April choosing between them--she had so many other options, and. Given Casey and a world of strangers--anyone except for April--he’d pick Casey, too.

“I shouldn’t have kissed her in front of you,” Casey says, finally, and Donnie flinches again.

“It was fine, I just--need to get over it.” Donnie picks up the pen again, puts it down hurriedly, switches to a wrench and pries at a rusted-in screw on a piece of scrap he’s dismantling. He’s gripping the wrench too hard, too, but at least it won’t break.

Casey kind of has a point, though.

But he can’t really expect them to be so sensitive of his _feelings_. How long would that need to last? Would they be banned from physical or verbal affection any time Donnie was within earshot or eyesight? That was a ridiculous thought, too.

“No! It’s--things worked, we _worked_ , and I--I messed it up. It’s not what I--it didn’t happen right. Things are different now.”

Things like the way they were friends, the way Donnie couldn’t stop obsessing over what it had been like for April to kiss _Casey_ , as much as he had the other way around.

“It’s been four days, Jones. _Four_. Days.”

“Oh, shut up! I mean it, I’m fucking sorry, I didn’t do that right, I guess I--misread the signs or--”

“Of course April’s interested in you,” Donnie says flatly, trying to make that sentence fragment make sense. “It’s obvious. She would have thrown you off the fire escape if she wasn’t.”

“Right,” Casey says, deflating, and well. Donnie doesn’t really get why. Except he does. Their balance has been upset--two legs going off to do their own thing, leaving the three-legged chair of their relationship-- _friendship_ \--unstable. But Donnie can’t get over it just like that, even if he’ll try--he’ll just be, just be a little distant for a while.

“I just--don’t want things to change too much,” Casey says, instead of leaving. Donnie _can’t_ sit here and give one half of his crushes (not crushes, he _loves_ them, but no, not a word, Donatello, don’t freak out the normal, _human_ people anymore than you already have-) advice on his relationship with the other half. “Between us. All of us, I mean. The way we were--I thought you’d be okay with it. But I was wrong, and--and I’m sorry. I just--you’re so damn smart and you get me and _challenge_ me and I’d--I trust you at my back, and you’re super intense when you’re in a science binge or a fight, and it’s almost like when you’re looking at--at April, and you’re just fucking _gorgeous_ when you move--”

“ _Gorgeous_?” Donnie spits out, going tense. So it’s like that. It’s a joke, or an--attempt to reassure him that veered into overcompensation--

“Yeah,” Casey says. “Not like--someone’s going to be totally lucky when they get you. Seriously, you’re my--one of my best bros.” He winces, _bad_ , apparently finally catching what his stupid mouth’s been saying.

“Spare me, Jones,” Donnie snarls, fighting off the urge to hiss at him--no, no need to remind him _just what a monster Donnie is_ \--and fighting off the equally-strong urges to flee or to defend himself.

“I mean it! It’s not to spare your _feelings_ , you know I wouldn’t bullshit about that, right?” He looks almost hurt, like he can’t imagine Donnie not trusting him. But it’s--not even so much a trust thing, just. Truth. Maybe a truth that Casey _believes_ , out of kindness or misplaced guilt--or sheer stubborn stupidity--but that doesn’t make it any more true _._

“...It’s fine. It’s all fine, you don’t--need to apologize. Congratulations,” Donnie says, and adds in a smile that’s, really, not even trying for believable. But he hurts too much, now.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Casey hisses, and he slams back out the door.

Seconds later, he bursts back in and rushes at Donnie--for a split-second confused, _horrible_ moment, Donnie thinks he’s being attacked--and presses a bruising kiss to his mouth, or at least the vicinity of his mouth, clinging bruisingly tight before he pushes himself away and rushes back out the door.

Donnie lets himself put his head in his hands and do nothing but breath, slow and steady, for a long, slow minute. He ignores any tears; they’re wasted water, anyway.

This was, after all, inevitable. Not the kiss, but the part where he loses the, and he’s left behind in the subterranean dark.

\---------------

_April and Casey_

There’s a Donnie-shaped space between April and Casey. Even though they’re at the library during daylight hours, working through homework right after school so the evening’s open for their nocturnal friends. Donnie’s never even _been_ there, and it’s not like he sits between them all the time or even most of the time _anyway_.

Casey is acutely aware of the space, and equally unwilling to cross it. Instead, he lets his pencil drop from his hands and slumps, staring balefully at it.

He’d really thought that there was something. Between _all_ of them. Because--

He’d been imagining things, he guessed. It’s not like he’s _April_. Of course Donnie is--of course it’s all about April, for him.

“That doesn’t look like history research, Jones,” April says, but it doesn’t really sound like her heart’s in it.

They haven’t really. Talked. Since Casey kissed April, without _asking_ even if she’d kissed back, and then turned to kiss Donnie and--watched him run. That had punctured _that_ balloon.

The silence builds, until finally Casey blurts out, a little too loud, “I wish Donnie were here!”

“I kissed Donnie,” April says, at the exact same moment.

They blink at each other. Someone a shelf over hisses a shut-up at them. Casey ignores it, except to reflexively give them the finger on the off chance that they’re looking. He’s pretty sure they’re invisible, tucked into a dark corner on instinct at this point, and he doesn’t bother to look, but the point still stands.

“ _Freaks,_ ” their eavesdropper says, disgusted, and Casey snorts out a laugh, because seriously, the guy has _no idea_. April tries to keep her giggle silent, but fails pretty fast.

It’d still be better with Donnie in-between them, or him in-between Donnie and April, or any other configuration, just…

What do you _do_ when you think you’re falling in love with two of your best friends? Simultaneously, all three of them, together?

Fuck it up, apparently.

April leans over and kisses him again, clumsily, and Casey freezes. It’s-- _amazing_ , and--he really really wants Donnie there. Wants to watch her kiss him. Kiss him himself. Even though he knows that Donnie only likes April like that.

“I gotta go,” Casey says, wide-eyed with panic, and he bolts for the door.

“ _No running in the library!_ ” someone barks, but he’s already out the swinging door and into the bright sunshine outside.

\---------------

_Resolution_

Donnie avoids anywhere anyone might talk to him, that evening, but nothing trips the perimeter sensors that would let him know that Casey or April were on their way. It’s--a relief, honestly. Makes it that much easier not to think about them. ...Except that he’s still thinking about them.

Leo, Mikey and Raph leave. Donnie lets himself get absorbed into his projects, trying to work hard enough to distract himself. It doesn’t work, in part because it’s a conscious effort. Leo, Mikey, and Raph come back. He ignores that, too. His eyes are burning and most of his calories in--too long, probably--have come in the form of coffee drinks, and he still keeps on slipping back to thinking about April kissing Casey. Wondering if it looks like April kissing him.

He saves the most difficult problems for when he thinks about Casey kissing him, so he has better chances of forcing it out of his mind. It’s also making him mess up a lot more. But, well, everything’s been messes for a while now, hasn’t it? Mostly of his own making. Except for whatever April and Casey had been trying. ...They’d probably discussed it together. The thought _hurts_. He knows he’s pathetic, he knows, but--

Someone knocks on the door--Leo, he recognizes the personality of his knock--and he goes to open it, numbly, at least it’ll be another distraction--

Mikey finishes pushing April and Casey around a corner. Casey has been gagged. April’s hands are tied behind her back. --this was stupid no matter what, and Donnie is going to make his brothers _suffer_ for it, but tying up April was a particularly stupid decision. Her bindings aren’t going to hold long, anyway.

Mechanically, he pushes on Casey’s shoulder, to get him to turn around so he can reach the knot on the wad of fabric shoved in his mouth. Then flinches. Too close to a friendly touch--not something he can do.

The thought of them--either, both--trying to kiss him when they didn’t want to makes him nauseous, on top of the hunger that’s been ignored for so long it’s turned into queasiness.

Casey turns, though, and Donnie fumbles with the knot, fingers not as dextrous as normal after too-long awake. Also, he’s trembling. He hopes-- _desperately_ \--that the two humans can’t see.

Casey spits a wad of wet cotton onto the floor with a truly disgusting squelching sound, and growls, turning right back around to presumably go after Donnie’s brothers, but April finishes wiggling her way out of the ropes holding her, and she grabs his shoulder.

They stare at each other, and Donnie’s not sure why the other two would be wide-eyed and nervous, afraid, _too_ , except that they might be worried he’s going to react badly, but it’s not like _he_ just tried to kiss one of them, for whatever reason--

“I won’t let myself make it weird,” Donnie promises, even though he already knows it’s a promise he’s not _capable_ of keeping. He can. At least try to keep what he had before.

“Sorry!” April says, hands clenched into white-knuckled fists and eyes desperate and anguished. “Sorry, I’m sorry, I know it’s greedy and I just--I shouldn’t have let this happen--”

“I misread _everything_ , I’m so fucking sorry, Donnie, I thought that you liked me _too_ and it was--dumb, it was dumb, I’m not April, I’m not _you_ , I didn’t want to fuck things up but--”

“Wait,” Donnie says, numbly, trying to make his mind _work_ , trying to figure out what Casey’s trying to say. “What?”

“I don’t even know if I can date April right now without you,” Casey blurts out, one long rush of words all spilling into each other. He sounds scared. “I know you don’t even like me like that, I just--wanted it too bad. But I’ll stop! So--that’s what it is. I thought--it was stupid. I thought we were all--” his voice breaks, and he wipes violently at his eyes with the back of a sleeve. “I thought we were headed there? A--a threesome, or whatever, but like. Permanent. Sorry. It was stupid.”

“E-even if you’re okay with--sharing? Sharing April--that’s not going to make _her_ want me,” Donnie says, quietly furious. “You can’t--just expect her to put up with that, just because you don’t want to upset our _dynamic_ \--”

“You’re pretty fucking stupid for a _genius_ ,” Casey hisses. “You _idiot_ , I want to date you too. I want the fucking romance, and the us-stuff, and I want to suck your dick! _With_ April!”

The silence is incredibly loud and echoing after that statement. Donnie, distantly, tries to make that make sense, and hopes his brothers aren’t listening.

“I don’t have a dick,” is what falls out of his mouth.

“Fine! I want to put my mouth on your _genitalia_ , asshole, and I assumed you did too! So--it was stupid, and you like April, and _I_ like April, but I can’t. It’s gonna take a while. Before I can date just her. Sorry,” he adds, his words falling off into a mumble. “If you even want to, Red. I know--”

“Thank you for remembering I’m a part of this conversation,” April says, terribly even. Donnie flinches. “...You know I like you both.”

“I am a _mutant turtle_ , I know you _like me_ but that doesn’t mean you want _romance_ from me, let alone sex!”

“I do!” Casey shouts back, defiant, and hurting underneath it.

“...I do too. I do,” April says, quietly terrified. “I’m not _normal_ , I thought maybe this could just--be _normal_ , or we could just--keep on like things were before--”

“So date Casey,” Donnie says, terribly terribly tired suddenly. Trying to keep his eyes from watering.

“Not like that! Like--girls--I’m _not supposed to_ want two guys at the _same time_. Want--both of you. Together. Or apart.” Her voice is hoarse with suppressed emotion, too. “It’s not… I thought maybe it’d go away, or that I’d grow out of being a greedy bitch stringing two guys along, but--I can’t choose,” she says.

“Why…”

Donnie’s voice is so thin, so terribly fragile. It sounds awful even to his own ears.

“--Why would either of you want me?” Donnie manages to say, finally.

“ _Donnie_ ,” April says, anguished.

“I--I know why _I’d_ want you, and I’m--it makes sense that I’d have deviant sexual interests, but--”

“You’re really hot,” Casey blurts out, slapping a hand over his mouth very belatedly.

“That’s just _not true_ ,” Donnie says, almost pleading.

April reaches out, takes a few steps closer, until her outstretched hand brushes against Donnie’s fingers. She gropes for his hand, but doesn’t look away from his eyes. “You trust us,” she says, and they all know that _that’s_ not a question, at least. “So--so trust us to know that you’re loveable?”

“Sexually _and_ romantically,” Casey adds, in a threatening manner. He’s blushing, hard, though. And holding onto himself, arms crossed defensively in front of him.

They’re worried, Donnie thinks, with the distance of shock making it all feel that much more like an unbelievable dream, that Donnie will turn them down.

“All three of us?” Donnie says, and tries (fails) to hide the panic in his voice, and the frail, building hope.

Casey nods a little too enthusiastically, and April relaxes, smiling bright and resplendent. It--doesn’t seem _believable_ , that they’d want--anything like this. With Donnie, mutant or not, or--

They all step forward simultaneously and kind of--meet in the middle, and a threeway kiss doesn’t actually _work_ , they don’t actually fit together, but it’s--hot and intimate and something like a kiss, pressed face to face to face, holding onto each other desperately.

“Sorry,” Donnie hears himself saying, faintly. “Sorry, I’m sorry, I--”

“Shut up,” Casey mumbles, mostly into his cheek. “Don’t ‘pologize.”

April braces herself on one of Casey’s arms--felt more than seen--pushes upwards to kiss Donnie, a _kiss_ , switches to Casey, switches back, and--human mouths mostly just taste like human mouths, except that April has better hygiene, but Donnie thinks, a little hysterically, that he wants to think he can taste the two of them, mixed together.

Casey bends his head, hair tickling against vulnerable skin, presses a kiss that’s achingly sincere to Donnie’s neck, seems reluctant to pull away even when April calls him back.

It’s unthinkable, that Casey would pick Donnie when he had the option of April, but--it’s easier to imagine when he gets to watch April kissing Casey, pulled in flush against Donnie’s carapace, trusting him-- _wanting him_. It’s so perfect, even with him in the middle. Everything he’d never thought to want.

“Triad,” April says, pulling herself away from Casey’s mouth somewhat reluctantly; it just pushes her closer to Donnie. “We’re--a triad, and we’re dating?” It’s meant to sound definite, Donnie thinks, but--

“Yes,” he says, hope like a fire in his chest.

“ _Permanent romance threesome_ ,” Casey interrupts, apparently reflexively, grinning like a loon, and Donnie had never imagined kissing beyond--the most basic hypotheticals and the most secret fantasies, but--

It’s so much better, trading kisses mixed with laughter, with two other people. A song slipping from dissonance to glorious, unexpected resolution.

-End-

**Author's Note:**

> A major chord with only three notes is also called a major triad. Music in a major key usually evokes positive emotions; music in a minor key, negative. As per Wikipedia, "Resolution in western tonal music theory is the move of a note or chord from dissonance (an unstable sound) to a consonance (a more final or stable sounding one)."
> 
> Also, yes, this is three days late. I am not, let's say, _efficient_.


End file.
